The air inside the kidnappers' hideout reeked of smoke, sweat, and fear.
The men sat in the corner, laughing, their minds hazy from the weed. Bottles lay scattered, gasoline dripping from a cracked can near their feet.
Ron sat silently in the corner of the cell, weak, his stomach empty. Beside him, Lyra's eyes glimmered faintly in the dim light. She tried to stay strong, but her small hands trembled as she held onto a piece of broken bread.
"Here," she whispered, pushing it toward him. "You've been hungry for days."
Ron looked at her, unsure whether to take it. But the gentle warmth in her voice made his tears fall before he could stop them.
Lyra smiled faintly, wiping his cheek with her dirty sleeve. "Everything will be alright. My father will come for us… and he'll save everyone."
Ron nodded slowly. Those words… gave him strength.
Outside, in the tall grass, armored figures hid. Their captain, a man with a scar over his right eye, whispered, "The lord's daughter is inside. Prepare for entry."
One soldier beside him asked, "Should we call for more men?"
The captain nodded. "Yes. We can't risk her life. Call reinforcements—"
And then it happened.
A faint drop of gasoline rolled down from the broken can and touched the scattered weed embers near the men. The spark caught.
For a moment, no one noticed.
Then—BOOM.
The explosion ripped through the base like thunder. Flames devoured everything in seconds. The walls screamed as the fire spread, eating through wood and steel alike.
Children cried. Some screamed. Others didn't even get the chance.
Small bodies ran through the smoke, coughing, clutching their burned hands and faces. The heat was unbearable.
Ron and Lyra's cell fell halfway into the ground as the explosion tore through the walls. Smoke and dust filled the air, but their part of the floor had collapsed inward, shielding them from the worst of it.
Ron coughed, gasping for air. "Lyra! Are you okay!?"
"I—I'm fine!" she cried, her voice shaking.
Outside, the soldiers who had been waiting saw the explosion light up the sky.
"Move! Everyone move!" the captain shouted. "The base is burning! Save whoever you can!"
They rushed in through the collapsing walls, swords drawn, flames licking at their armor. The sound of metal boots on ash echoed with the screams of terrified children.
Inside, Ron could barely see through the smoke. He pushed against the broken lock, desperate. "Come on… open!" he hissed.
The lock snapped.
The cell door creaked open.
He grabbed Lyra's hand. "Let's go!"
They stumbled out together, stepping over debris and bodies. The stench of burning flesh and smoke filled their lungs. Ron covered Lyra's face with his sleeve as they moved toward the open corridor.
Then—
A beam of light cut through the haze.
A soldier spotted them.
"Captain! I found her! The heiress is alive!"
The captain rushed over, kneeling down. "By the gods… we found her. Quickly, get her out of here!"
He turned to the others. "Rescue the remaining children! Check every cell—don't let a single one burn!"
Ron held Lyra's hand tightly, trembling. "Don't leave me," he whispered.
But the captain's eyes hardened when he saw the flames spreading through the roof. The structure was about to collapse. He made his decision in silence.
He picked Lyra up and turned away.
"Wait—no! What about him!?" she screamed.
The captain didn't look back. "I'm sorry, kid," he muttered. "My orders are clear. The heiress must survive."
He signaled to his men. "Get her out—now!"
"NO!" Lyra's voice broke. "We can't leave him! Please! Save him!"
Ron stumbled forward, coughing, reaching for her hand. "Lyra!"
A soldier grabbed the captain's arm. "Sir, the roof—it's coming down!"
"Move!" he barked.
Before Ron could take another step, the captain turned and kicked him backward into the broken cell. The door slammed shut.
"I'm sorry, boy," the captain said softly. "This is where your fate ends."
Ron's eyes widened as Lyra screamed his name. "RON!!!"
The soldiers carried her away as the flames roared louder. The ceiling began to crack, chunks of burning wood falling everywhere. Lyra's cries echoed down the hallway—
"Why didn't you save him!? You saved all the other kids—why not him!?"
Outside, the surviving children huddled together, trembling. The soldiers were dragging the injured out, wrapping burned hands, dousing the flames that still clung to skin and cloth.
The captain lowered his sword, breathing hard. His armor was scorched, his face covered in soot.
Lyra broke free from the medic's grip and rushed to him, tears burning her cheeks.
"Why!?" she shouted. "You saved everyone but him! Why didn't you save Ron!?"
The captain didn't answer at first. He looked at the burning remains of the base, the collapsing roof, the sparks lighting up the night sky.
Finally, he spoke, voice low and heavy.
"The fire had swallowed everything. Another minute inside… and we would've all been dead. My orders were to rescue you, heiress. I had no choice."
Lyra's small fists shook — then she hit him. Once. Twice.
Her fists landed weakly against his armor, but she kept striking him, sobbing.
"You liar! You could've saved him! You could've!"
The captain didn't move. He stood still, letting her hit him, his jaw clenched. His men looked away.
At last, she fell to her knees, crying into the dirt.
The captain placed a hand on her shoulder. "Pray that boy's soul finds peace. Because in this world—mercy dies first."
The base behind them crumbled, roaring as it fell. The sound echoed through the forest like a dying beast.
And in that inferno… Ron's fate was swallowed by the flames.
---
(END OF CHAPTER 5)